*[Any feminists with letters regarding the previous statement can address their emails to: JoelFarrelly@gmail.com]
I could try to deny it, but the truth was, I respected Elisha immensely. She was not just a good writer but a great story teller. Plus, our platonic friendship allowed us constant insight into each other’s gender; someone who could translate the thoughts and feelings of our significant others in real time.
So naturally, Elisha was the first person that I called after my date with Alabama. Half an hour later, I was perched outside a Starbucks with her seated across the table from me, nursing a caramel Frappuccino and listening to me run through the bullet-points from the previous night.
When I got to the part about the strap-on, Elisha suddenly interrupted me to say, “Wait, she HAS an actual strap-on? Like the full kit with the harness and everything? Can you ask her where she got it and how much she paid?”
“Are you fucking with me right now, or are you seriously in the market for a wearable sex-toy?”
Elisha’s tone was adamant as she said, “Seriously and I need a good reference on prices. This guy I’ve been seeing, Lance?”
“Ugh… He’s into that?”
Elisha gave me a devilish smile and nodded again. “It’s called pegging.”
“Yeah. In case you were curious about the terminology.”
“I most certainly wasn’t, but hey… The more you know, right?”
“I have this double-ended dildo and I tried fucking him with that.”
“REALLY? How does that work?”
“Unfortunately, not well. I tried putting one end in his has ass while he was in the doggy-style position and then I put the other end in my pussy but that didn’t work. The angles were weird and I couldn’t get a good rhythm going.”
More than a little amused by the image she had just put in my head, I smirked at Elisha and gave her a sarcastic shrug. “Well at least you tried. What else can you do?”
“I fingered his ass while he jerked himself off. That seemed to work pretty well.”